All Along the Watchtower
by Exangeline
Summary: They sat at the piano, fingers splayed along its length. "Play the bottom, okay?" JD whispered, hands hovering over the keys. "Just come in when you think you're ready."


**DISCLAIMER: **Scrubs is owned by Bill Lawrence and the ABC network (as of Season 8). I own nothing, except an extremely overactive imagination and a fondness for angst. The storyline is, for the most part, my own, though I most definitely don't own JD or any of the characters in Scrubs. The music piece featured inside this story belongs to Bear McGeary, taken from the show Battlestar Gallactica. I don't own that one, either.

**AUTHORS NOTE: **This is just a small—and really random—idea that came to me while I was listening to All Along the Watchtower. Having recently watched the series finale to BSG, I felt like I should honor it somehow, but I really wanted to write something for Scrubs. So this story was born. The characters are OOC, the plot is nonexistent, my writing probably makes no sense and any and all suspense dies halfway throughout the story. But it's my baby, and I love it.

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**ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER**

They found him at the piano, hand hovering over the keys. His face was completely deadpan as he focused intently on remembering the exact combination of keystrokes that would create the perfect melody. They crowded around the entrance, sending hesitant glances his way, none of the group willing to risk approaching him in the middle of such a private moment. Unaware of their presence, he lowered his hand gently to rest on the lower keys, face contorted with concentration.

They could only imagine what he was thinking at that moment—which song he was remembering, and why. All theories about this were forgotten, however, as he pressed down against the first key, letting the sound resonate throughout the room before shaking his head and beginning again. The next time, he produced not one, but two notes. Two became three, three became four, until eventually, the keystrokes became a pattern.

A melody rolled off of his fingertips. It was inaccurate—barely recognizable, even—yet one of the people standing there watching him realized what it was the instant the sound caressed his ears.

JD's face shifted from a deep, thoughtful look to an expression of repressed pain when he pieced together what he was doing. He knew his next move would either make or break his friendship with the figure hunched over the keys as he made his way over to the piano, sitting on the edge of the seat. He watched in silence as the other man stopped playing to glance up at him, eyes dark and glassy—but one glance had JD believing that dead look in his eyes was from sorrow, not anger.

He took it as a sign to proceed.

"Play the bottom, okay?" JD whispered softly, his hands hovering over the keys. "Just come in when you think you're ready."

The other man let out a small "hm", which was the only indication that he had actually heard what JD had said. His thoughts were a mess and his emotions were even _more_ chaotic. He'd been trying for hours now to hit the right notes as he stared down at the piano, only stopping when JD had found him. The young doctor seemed to understand on sight what he was trying to do, and offered his aid…

…Which he probably would have thrown back at him with a glare, or a string of insults, if it hadn't been today.

Any other day but today.

JD took in a deep breath before pressing down on the keys, repeating the melody that had previously rang through the room, but with an added twist that had it actually resembling the song they were supposed to be playing. JD nodded at the older man and struck the same notes again. Just as he pressed down on the keys, he saw his companion's hand lower as he rested it against the bottom of the piano. It took a few tries, but they managed to create a working rhythm.

Growing more and more confident, JD struck down on the keys, allowing the music to swell as he was joined by the man to his side. Their hands moved in unison as they played, and it was in that moment that the gesture was seen for what it truly was—a dedication to a fallen comrade, to a friend who they both missed.

When they finished, JD turned to Perry and smiled.

"For Ben."

The older man just nodded.

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_They sat together in his room, Ben in his hospital gown on the bed, and JD on a chair next to him. It was his turn to watch him, and their banter had shifted from hot chicks to television shows by now. Battlestar Galactica, in particular._

"_Everything Gaius Baltar has done on that show is stupid," Ben said exasperatedly. "That, my friend, is something you cannot deny."_

_JD pouted at him, shaking his head. "You're wrong."_

_Ben just grinned at him in response, leaning forward. "Give me one reason why the man isn't completely worthless."_

_JD pondered that for a moment, and was just about to open his mouth to speak when Doctor Cox sauntered into the room, clapping his hands down on the back of JD's chair, which caused the younger doctor to shoot straight out of it. Ben burst into laughter at his expression, and snapped a quick photo with his camera, which lead to both Doctor Cox and JD staring heatedly at him._

"_So, Ben," Cox said, crossing his arms and giving his nose a quick tap, "What girl-band has Rhonda here been chatting to you about?"_

"_None, Per." Ben replied, grinning down at the Polaroid in his hands. Cox scowled at the picture, took it, ripped it up then stalked out of the room. There was a short silence, until—_

"_Did you like their rendition of 'All Along the Watchtower'?"_

"_Don't change the subject."_

_Despite his dilemma, JD smiled._

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**AUTHORS NOTE: **If anyone wants the song they played, just ask, and I'll be glad to send it to you. Otherwise, tell me what you think.

--_Exangeline._


End file.
